


don’t let it ruin our beautiful rhythm

by Pallet_and_Cerulean



Category: Araburu Kisetsu no Otome-domo yo. | Maidens of the Savage Season
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 04:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallet_and_Cerulean/pseuds/Pallet_and_Cerulean
Summary: “Yamagishi’s hands taking hold of hers startled her out of her head. His hold was gentle, but firm, and the breath he let out was long and slow, steadying. When Hongo lifted her gaze to meet his bright, violet eyes, heat prickled at the back of her eyes, vision blurring just slightly at the edges with the moisture gathering there. Though, his attention was still fixed on her hands, looking so small and fragile between his.“Why are you shaking?” he asked, and when he finally looked up to catch her gaze, concern was shimmering in his eyes.”orAn AU where Yamagishi accepts Hongo’s request for him to teach her.





	don’t let it ruin our beautiful rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before episode 5 aired, so any canon inconsistencies are because of that. I hope you enjoy!

Being led down the hall of a strange apartment by a man she hardly knew outside of a scummy online chat and a newly appointed advisory role, Hongo realized, was not the most ideal of situations. Yet, in that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to feel threatened or violated by it. Everything was clean and rather tidy, and Yamagishi had politely greeted her at the door, more respectful and business-like than she had anticipated. Once he had agreed to teach her, even if it took a good deal of convincing, he had been entirely well-mannered about the whole situation. 

Though, that said, she was still a high school girl, young and inexperienced in all thing romance and beyond. And stepping into a bedroom that smelled distinctly like another person, a boy, all spiced cologne and laundry soap, set something fluttering low in her stomach. The tall shelf stacked full of books, largely classic literature, helped her feel more at ease, though. That was familiar, and assuring, too, that this was someone of taste with literary interests, not a disgusting teacher clamoring after his student. Not that she had any doubts, though, after his long winded thoughts on why high schoolers were inferior had been burned into the front of her mind. He hadn’t minced words, and writers of all people knew what words were capable of. 

Shaking the memory away before it could start to sting, she dropped her bag beside the door and stopped next to it, unsure. This was uncharted territory, and she certainly wasn’t going to take the lead. While Yamagishi busied himself with closing the door and switching on a warm hued lamp to cut through the darkness, she let her gaze wander over the room. Aside from the aforementioned bookshelf, it was rather sparsely furnished. Just a desk in one corner, a bed, and a bedside table, as well as a single dusty houseplant that looked like it needed some water. 

She startled when Yamagishi cleared his throat, trying to get her attention. After a beat, she caught his gaze, wishing she felt as cool and collected as he looked. Not that she was nervous, just that she felt a little out of place and on edge. Being in other people’s houses wasn’t something she was overly familiar with anyways, being more of an introvert, and the looming thought of what she was asking of him lodged itself in her chest, dull and rounded but just enough to pull at her consciousness. 

When no one spoke, Yamagishi strayed away to take a seat at his desk, and Hongo was inexplicably glad that he’d chosen the desk chair over the bed. “What, exactly, are you wanting from me?” he asked, straightforward as usual. Though the hint of sensitivity hidden underneath made her feel just a little better about everything. 

“I want you to teach me the reality of the things I haven’t experienced,” she replied, echoing her sentiment from a handful of days earlier. Hands curling into fists, she drew upon her resolve, carefully keeping her tone even and level, her expression flat. 

“That’s vague, and not enough to help me,” Yamagishi said, equally apt at expressing little of what he felt. Though, after a moment, when Hongo offered nothing more, he tried a different approach, softening some. Relaxing the square set of his shoulders, he spun the chair around until he was facing her straight on. “I’m trying to make sure you’re comfortable. If you only want me to kiss you, that’s all I’ll do. But, I can’t know your boundaries if you don’t tell me, and I’d rather not cross any lines,” he explained, eyes flicking to the side at the last comment. He quieted, too, but Hongo couldn’t get a read on why. 

Considering, she let her reply tumble until she hoped it would come out properly, the awkward, jagged edges worn down like beach glass. “I want everything you’re willing to offer me,” she said decisively. Though, while that was the truth, she wasn’t quite sure how deep that truth ran. If things got to be more... intense than she imagined, she wasn’t sure how honest that statement would turn out to be. But, for now, it was enough. 

A subtle flash of surprise crossed his expression, lips parting ever so slightly, eyes widened the same small degree. The barest hint of pink rose high on his cheeks, but it was gone in an instant. He quickly recovered and nodded in acknowledgment, hardly missing a beat. Though, there was something thoughtful simmering behind his violet eyes that wasn’t there before. And the minute shift in the atmosphere didn’t slip her notice either, some of the near patronizing air about him ebbing away. As far as Hongo was concerned, those words had leveled things out for them, and though he clearly had more experience than her in such matters, she wanted to prove herself diligent and willing to learn. 

Blowing out a breath, almost like he was resigning himself to something, Yamagishi stood and crossed the room in a few long strides, situating himself on his bed. He watched her expectantly, a thin brow raised, but, for a long moment, she didn’t move from the doorway. She wasn’t sure why she was frozen there, but all she could do was stare and try to think past the heavy crush of reality. She had asked him for real experience, and still wanted it, but she hadn’t expected it to feel so weighty. Eventually, though, something broke her out of her stupor, and she moved to sit beside him. She let their thighs press together, but didn’t dare straddle his lap the way she had in the classroom. The memory of that was still too fresh, too raw. Just the thought of it, the burning heat that had rippled beneath her skin, the almost sickening rush of adrenaline, had her heart stuttering over a beat. 

The warmth of him, even through his pants and her skirt, was enough to both soothe that edgy feeling fraying at the ends of her nerves and send her pulse quickening with anticipation. Everything seemed to move at a honeyed pace, slow and steady, yet it was too hurried all the same. Before she could even really process it, his hand was on her jaw, angling her face in towards his. The only thing she could think to do was close her eyes, though, whether it was to revel in the moment or to shut out the fact that it was happening at all, she couldn’t be sure. Still, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle and fleeting kiss, testing the waters. She didn’t even have time to feel any certain way about it before it was over.

The impulse to tell him that was her first kiss caught Hongo off guard, the words bubbling up in her throat. It was odd, considering that was probably that last thing she wanted him to know. But she hardly needed to force the words down, because anything she might have said was stolen away in another kiss. And this time, he didn’t pull away after a fraction of a second, lingering longer. 

He was warm. At first, that notion seemed to engulf every other detail in the kiss, that his lips were warm against hers and it felt surprisingly pleasant. But after the first rush of anticipation fell away, she was left to sink into the kiss and feel out every facet and nuance. The practiced feel of his movements, the dampness of his lips, the heat of his breath ever time his mouth fell open just a sliver against hers. His hand still lingered on her jaw, too, subtle shifts adjusting the angle they met at. Every new sensation that washed over her brought a little more ease and comfort with it. Kissing was nice. Or, at least, kissing him was nice. 

When he eventually pulled back, she blinked at him, a little dazed, belatedly realizing that he was reading her, looking for any hints of discomfort. Her heart thumped a little in her chest when she figured out what he was doing. She’d explicitly told him, without question, that she wanted everything he would offer, and yet, he was taking things slow and checking in with her. That wasn’t fair of him; he was only supposed to be her teacher, but the way he looked at her had something warm and fuzzy unfurling in her chest. She stamped it out, recoiling against the surge of emotion. He caught her gaze afterwards, searching, and she tried to sharpen the no doubt dulled, sated look to her eyes. Whether it was pride or some self-preserving instinct, she wasn’t sure she wanted to let on how his kisses affected her. 

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Yamagishi remarked, the timbre of his voice pitched a little lower, a little rougher. And when she took a moment to look him over the same way he had been watching her, she noticed the slight pink tint on his cheeks, the subtly deeper rise and fall of his chest. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hongo questioned, taking the comment as an insult instead of the intended compliment. It was the implication that bothered her, that he must have expected some blushing, flustered mess. Leveling her gaze at him, waiting for a reply, she absently wiped at her lips with the back of her wrist. They were still damp and she swore the memory of the kiss was still burning there, distracting her. 

“Well, with the way that you shoved me back and ran the other day...” he replied reluctantly, stirring up her memories. 

Shame burned across her cheeks, singing the tips of her ears red. Hands fisted in her skirt, she tried to force back the rush of embarrassment. She couldn’t bring herself to reply, so instead she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down until his gaze was level with hers. His breath caught somewhere in his chest, his blush darkening to match hers. Reflexively, he tried to flinch back, taken by surprise, but her hold was strong. Before he could say anything to make her lose her nerve, she kissed him. And this time, she kissed him like she had something to prove, not wanting to sit back doe-eyed and timid.

Everything was different, more aggressive and electric. Where before it felt like he was trying to assure her, saccharine and slow, this was hot and intense. His mouth fell open against his, catching her bottom lip between his and coaxing a short gasp from her. At the sound, her face went redder, but she just stubbornly tightened her hold of his collar. And her own body’s reaction, a pleasant shudder running down her spine, had her more embarrassed than anything else. Though, Yamagishi took advantage of the small lapse in her guard, tongue skirting over her lips before pushing farther in. The sensation was strange and foreign, unexpected, something hot and wet in her mouth. 

Acting on gut instinct, Hongo wrenched away, immediately releasing his collar in favor of clamping a hand over her mouth. Though, after a beat, she thought better of it and dropped her hand when she realized she couldn’t get enough air through her nose, pulling in a couple of heavy breaths. The sensation of it stuck with her, playing over again like a reel of film. Except she could feel it, which was somehow worse than watching it play out. 

“No offense, but that’s more what I was expecting from you,” Yamagishi said, straightening his shirt from where she had it bunched around the collar. His glasses were knocked slight askew too, and she briefly remembered feeling the cool metal against her skin. How he kept his composure, more or less anyhow, Hongo had no idea. Experience was a powerful thing. 

Something ashamed and indignant burned high in her chest, making her fingers curl to fists. But she did her best to cool it, to dull the emotions. “You were trying to get a reaction,” she insisted, brooding. 

He didn’t deny it, merely straightened his glasses and pushed them back up the bridge of his nose. “That was my intention, yes, but that wasn’t the reaction I wanted,” he countered. 

Considering his words, she figured he was probably being honest. That wasn’t exactly a flattering response to being kissed, pulling away like something had burned her. It was probably insulting.

When she didn’t answer, he just sighed then shifted back until he leaning against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him. The distance between them helped Hongo dispel the stubborn heat from her cheeks. Though she made no move back towards him, raising a brow questioningly. For a moment, the quiet atmosphere stretched between them, each appraising the other.

“Come over here,” he said, careful to make it a suggestion and not a demand. Hongo was glad for that, at least. 

When she got close enough, both of his hands fell to her hips, the heat of his skin searing even through her clothes. Long, slender fingers curled around the bone there, pulling her into his lap. Heart pounding hard against her ribs, Hongo felt everything in her go tense. She wanted this. She wanted this, and yet, her nerves were wound tight and tangled, unsettled. Seemingly sensing the shift, or maybe he just felt her tense against his fingers, he spoke up to clarify. “It will be easier this way. I won’t need to lean over so far and you won’t need to stretch up as much.”

Glancing up at him, she realized he was right. While he was still a good bit taller than her, the height difference wasn’t so dramatic with her sinking to sit on her knees. For a beat, she tried to hover over his lap, but his hands, sure and insistent, pulled her down to more properly straddle him. Almost immediately, heat bloomed under her skin. Something like liquid fire spilled down the ridges of her spine, pooling low beneath the pit of her stomach. Biting down on her lip to keep completely quiet, she swallowed thickly. It seemed too intimate, and everything was too sensitive, too tuned to the feel of him beneath her. A jolt ran through her when he carefully shifted a leg beneath her, tipping her higher up on the cradle of his hips. She trapped every noise that welled up in her throat, forcing them down. 

Struggling to force down the rush of adrenaline and anticipation, Hongo sucked in a deep breath and held it there, trying to calm the racing of her heart. Though, as soon as she let it out, Yamagishi leaned forward to kiss her again. He didn’t hold back, teeth grazing the swell of her lip. And as soon as she worked up he courage to open up to him, he licked into mouth. And now that she was expecting it, she found it to be far less unpleasant. Instead, the new sensations it brought crashed over her, making her pulse race faster. And when he ran his tongue along the roof of her mouth, quick and smooth, goosebumps rippled across her skin. 

Searching for something to hold to, her hands found purchase at the base of his skull, sinking into the soft hair there. It was grounding, to feel something other than the heat of his mouth, the press of his fingers at her sides. Though, she wasn’t sure how much it would help, with her sensitivity to him only building. She could smell him now, too, clean and tinged with something like sandalwood. It was intoxicating, and with every breath in through her nose she had to remind herself not to get attached. Because this was a temporary thing between them, but she felt like she could breath him in forever. 

When she pulled back to catch her breath, near panting, a thin strand of saliva stretched between them for a handful of heartbeats before it broke. Hongo kind of wanted to wipe her mouth, but found the urge was quieter than before, dulled beneath the haze in her head. So instead she took in the picture in front of her: Yamagishi with half lidded eyes and reddened lips, gazing at her with none of the patronage he had before. There was desire there now, mingled with something she couldn’t pinpoint. The physical reaction it stirred in her, stoking the kindling heat that coursed through her veins, was still a bit of a surprise. 

Dipping his head, Yamagishi pressed fleeting kisses across her jawline, then trailed them down her neck. She had to grit her teeth to force back the sounds rising up in her throat. When he stopped to suck at her pulse point, searing a mark onto her skin, she bit down on the inside of her cheek, hands clenching tight in his hair. She couldn’t help but shift a little, restless and impatient, and the brush of his leg high on her inner thigh set sparks shooting out from her head to her toes. A suppressed whine made it halfway past her lips before she managed to stop herself. 

“Don’t,” Yamagishi murmured against her skin, breath coming in warm, damp puffs. “You don’t have to stay quiet,” he said, almost assuringly. 

Hongo just shook her head a little, trying to regain some semblance of control. She could feel it slipping, and if she let go of that too, gave up control over her noise... She didn’t want to think about it. So, instead, she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip and let her eyes fall closed as Yamagishi’s mouth fell lower against her throat. Fleetingly, beneath the heated haze in her mind, she wondered how a teacher could suck marks onto a student’s throat like that without feeling guilty. Though, it wasn’t like he was taking advantage; if anything, she was the one pushing him into something. 

All of those thoughts fell away, scattered, when Yamagishi’s hands smoothly tucked under the hem of her shirt. She sucked in a gasp, his fingers leaving trails of sparks in their wake as he swept them across her abdomen. Breath caught in her throat, she resisted the urge to pull away, instead reaching for the collar of his shirt again. This time, she impatiently worked at the top few buttons until they came loose, smoothing her thumb across the hollow of his throat before leaning closer. 

His lips parted from her neck with a small murmur of her name tumbling off his tongue. It was almost a question, soft and dazed, and she hated the way it way it made her stomach flutter. That wasn’t fair. Trying desperately to block out the surge of emotion, she forced her gaze down to the exposed strip of skin dipping beneath his collarbone. In an attempt to busy herself, to stop herself from thinking, because thinking was dangerous, she pressed her lips to the firm muscle of his chest. For someone who looked so thin, he was surprisingly toned. And, because that wasn’t enough to keep her mind occupied, she pulled at the lower buttons of his shirt, working one apart, then moving down to the next. 

His hands twitched against her sides, squeezing a little tighter, and the steady rhythm of his breathing hitched off beat. She was out of her depth, unsure of what to do next, but a small surge of pride rose up at realization that she was the one responsible for that reaction. It was easier to block out the things she felt building and roiling in her insides, uncomfortably hot, too intimate, if she poured her focus into him. Though, that was easier said than done, when her experience and knowledge felt like it was hitting an all time low. 

Eventually, still pressing lingering kisses high on his chest, Hongo worked the last button on his shirt free. Without prompting, he shifted slightly, pushing her back a little in his lap, and shrugged out of it. The shirt fell somewhere to the shadows at the side of the bed, the rustle of fabric seeming too loud. Even while she had been taking it off of him, she hadn’t really thought about the implications. But, with that sound, the reality of the situation hit her. Clothes were being removed; this wasn’t innocent anymore. 

Something anxious creeping into her stomach, working against the desire pooled there, she redoubled her efforts in an attempt to dispel it. Yamagishi, one hand still settled low on her waist, brought the other up to rest on the back of her head, fingers buried in the thick locks. Letting out an unsteady breath, his chest falling with it, he moved restlessly under her touch. 

“Here,” he said breathlessly, and guided her lips further down his chest with the hand on her head. Obligingly, she let her mouth fall open against the new expanse of skin, kissing and tentatively sucking at the spot. That earned a reaction, the beginnings of a moan reverberating low in his throat. His eyes, bright and shimmering in the low light, fluttered closed. 

Hongo liked being able to make him feel that way. 

It wasn’t long, though, before he seemed to remember himself, and what he was supposed to be doing. The hand at her hip slowly eased higher, up her waist, her ribs, the side of her chest, bunching the fabric as he went. Twin jolts of panic and aching desire coursed through her as he paused to slip the shirt over her head, easing her back from his chest for just a beat. The air suddenly seemed too cold against her exposed skin, and she shivered, though she doubted it was due to the temperature. 

Suddenly jittery, she flinched when Yamagishi’s hands came back to her abdomen, brushing across her stomach before sliding higher. His touch felt like fire, alighting her nerves with something flickering and bright. And when nimble fingers slipped behind her, hesitating for a beat at the clasp of her bra, she pushed down the creeping fears and nodded, burying her face in the crook of his neck to drop absentminded kisses there. In hardly another heartbeat, the clasp came undone, the elastic on her shoulders loosening before he slipped the straps down her arms completely. 

Briefly, he just smoothed over the shallow indents in her skin where the fabric had pulled tight, the pad of his thumbs warm and gentle. Though, his hands quickly came to the front of he chest, mapping the newly bared skin. Hongo couldn’t stop herself from squirming under his touch any longer, though she still kept her mouth stubbornly shut, despite the moans and whimpers that wanted come out. She’d never realized how, in the heat of the moment, mind hazed with lust, everything would feel so sensitive. 

And the longer he kissed her, touched her, felt her, the louder her own insecurities and anxieties started to grow. The intense desire throbbing between her legs scared her, and all the unrelenting attention had her flustered. Something like panic started to claw at her chest, forcing the breath from her lungs in a rush before she could suck it back in again. She wanted this, needed this, so why was she panicking? Even she couldn’t figure it out, and frustration surged up, burning in with all the other conflicted emotions weighing at her heart. 

Don’t think. Just breathe. 

Yamagishi’s fingers dug gently into soft flesh, and she reeled back from her spot with her nose buried in his neck. Her nerves were all jumpy now, and she couldn’t quiet them. Every touch was too intense, sending out electric jolts beneath her skin. It was too much. Overwhelming. Thoughts whipped through her mind in a whirlwind, ranging from indecent to near delirious. Searching, reaching, for something to occupy the anxious energy, she hurriedly rocked back in his lap and dropped her hands to his belt. She just had to keep going, get it all over with. Unwilling to cooperate, her hands started to shake, subtly at first, then more violently as she desperately struggled to unthread the neatly tucked end from his belt loop and unhook the buckle. 

It wasn’t just her hands; her whole body was trembling and she couldn’t get control over the shaking, no matter how hard she tried. 

Somewhere along the lines, her little mantra: don’t think, just breathe, twisted with the panic. Just think. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. 

Yamagishi’s hands taking hold of hers startled her out of her head. His hold was gentle, but firm, and the breath he let out was long and slow, steadying. When Hongo lifted her gaze to meet his bright, violet eyes, heat prickled at the back of her eyes, vision blurring just slightly at the edges with the moisture gathering there. Though, his attention was still fixed on her hands, looking so small and fragile between his. 

“Why are you shaking?” he asked, and when he finally looked up to catch her gaze, concern was shimmering in his eyes. The question lingered in the air, the only competition Hongo’s lurching breaths. 

His question had her completely at a loss. Still panting, blushing, she just stared back at him, mouth falling open with no words coming out. She felt like crying. “I- I don’t...” Stammering out the words, breathless, that was all she could bring herself to say. She didn’t know; it was all just too much. Too much of him and too much of her own anxiety. 

When he still looked at her, expectant, his gaze felt heavy. She knew what he was after, an answer, but she couldn’t bring herself to give it. Instead, heat stinging at her cheeks, she just gave a brusque shake of her head, eyes shut tight. Her heart hurt, and everything felt wound up too tight. And the moment, Yamagishi appraising gaze in her, felt like it lasted an instant and an eternity all at once. But, the instant he shifted away from her, gently pushing her off his lap, she knew that, whatever she had done, she’d made a mistake. 

The bed dipped beneath his weight as he moved to the edge, then rose again when he stood, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on. He didn’t bother doing up the buttons, and before Hongo could do or say anything, he left without a word. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, the soft footsteps receding down the hallway, some mumbled, choked noise came up her throat. She didn’t know where it came from, but she couldn’t bite it back. Absently, she tugged on her shirt, but couldn’t bring herself to get up. Dejectedly, she curled up on her side, breathing in the lingering scent of him on the blankets. 

Some part of her was relieved, the heat cooling from her cheeks, the desperate ache at the pit of her stomach ebbing away. Yet, the tears pooling in her eyes wouldn’t dissipate and she couldn’t swallow down the knot in her throat. This had been her one chance to learn, to gain the experience she didn’t have, and she ruined it. And, she thoroughly humiliated herself in the process. As far as she was concerned, it was pretty close to a worst case scenario. 

The room was dark, only a dim lamp glowing faintly on the bedside table. And the silence felt like it could swallow her whole. The fading warmth of their body heat on the blankets felt like somewhat of a lifeline, and, hands curled by her chest, she clung to the feeling. It helped to soothe the cold, heavy gloom weighing at her heart. Somewhere, faintly, she thought she heard a siren wail in the distance. 

Stuck in her spiraling thoughts, Hongo failed to notice the door swinging open, the pad of soft footsteps. She only realized Yamagishi had come back when something black invaded her vision. Blinking, she realized it was a mug, delicate curls of steam rising from the surface. And when she turned, she found Yamagishi leaning over her, eyes bright in the darkness, brow furrowed slightly with worry. 

When she sat up, he stepped back to give her space, but held the mug out in offering, a granola bar in his other hand. In reply, she just raised an eyebrow, questioning. “You’ll feel better,” he answered gingerly. Then, almost too quiet for her to hear, “Trust me.” 

Her chest ached a little, then, at the kindness of the gesture. He didn’t have to do that for her, but he cared, at least on some level, and so he did. He was looking out for her. Again, she had to remind her heart not to grow too fond, too attached. Distracting herself from the thought, she reached out and took both the mug and the granola bar, the calming scent of chamomile wafting up from the warm drink. Without another word, Yamagishi sunk down on the other side of the bed, thoughtlessly ruffling a hand through his hair. Though, he kept his gaze on her while she carefully set the tea down on the floor, folding down the wrapper on the granola bar. Taking a few slow, thoughtful bites, she found the food helped to settle her stomach some, and with time, the trembling had all but disappeared. 

Once she was finished, Hongo retrieved the mug, taking a tentative sip. It was cool enough to drink now, but still pleasantly warm. Typically, coffee was her go-to drink, early into the mornings kept up to work on her writing, but the more soothing chamomile was a welcome change for now. For quite a while, the two of them sat in a mostly comfortable silence. Hongo sipping her tea and mulling things over, Yamagishi alternating between watching her and staring down at his clasped hands. And as she slowed her thoughts and processed, soaking in the calm atmosphere settled over the room, she found herself slowly feeling more normal again. 

Eventually, Hongo stood and placed the half empty mug on the bedside table. He had a watch sitting there, too, and a notebook that she would have been tempted to flip through, had he not been sitting right behind her. Breathing a quiet sigh, she moved to sit down next to him, closer this time. For a long time, the seconds ticked by into minutes, passing them by. It was Yamagishi who eventually broke the silence. 

“I’m sorry I scared you before,” he said softly, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. There was a hint of pink dusted across his cheeks, and his gaze strayed ahead of him, rather than searching out hers. Though, his apology felt genuine and honest. It really did look like he felt bad about it. 

“It wasn’t you,” Hongo replied, propping her elbows in her lap to rest her chin on her hands. “I have my own hang ups.” The words were heavy on her tongue, and she felt a little lighter for having said them. 

Clearing his throat to dispel the somewhat solemn atmosphere, Yamagishi sat up a little straighter and met her gaze. “It’s getting late,” he said, changing the subject. “I can drive you home, if you want,” he offered gently, looking almost shy about it. 

Adults were interesting, Hongo thought, or maybe it was just him. The way he could be blunt and keep a straight face talking about such mature, intimate things, yet was sheepish and worried over a fragile, innocent girl was amusing, if not a little endearing. 

“I can walk,” she replied, reaching her arms up over her head in a languid stretch. If she was being honest, she would have much rather taken the car, but she didn’t think she could handle it tonight. Even still, beside him on the bed, something ambivalent rose up in her chest, warm and hazy and longing. And the car smelled like him, and reminded her of promises they made, promises that led her to where she was sitting. 

Giving a resigned sigh, Hongo got to her feet, collecting the bra she hadn’t bothered to put back on and stuffing it in her bag without a second thought. Yamagishi at her heels, she made her way back through the hall to the door, absently slipping on her shoes. She turned back to face him, grip tightening on the strap of her bag, and ducked her head in a bow. “Thank you for taking care of me.” The words came out stiff and uncomfortable, but were genuine nonetheless. “I apologize for acting immature.” 

A gentle hand fell to her shoulder, prompting her to raise her head. The ghost of a smile flickered across Yamagishi’s lips, something a little stoic dulling the edges of it. “You’re a kid, you don’t have to be mature,” he replied, pulling his hand back to his side. 

Though, Hongo wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or insulted at the notion. So, she just gazed back at him until he flushed under intent, appraising eyes, then let a sliver of a smile turn the corners of her lips up. This was comfortable, something she knew how to navigate. Amid all the unknown, little moments like that were nice, and she found herself wishing for more of them. 

“You’ll let me come back again, right?” she asked, suddenly somber. To be honest, she wasn’t expecting much, given the way things had gone, but she had to ask. Because he was her one chance, and somewhere in the back of her mind, as nothing more than an inkling, she thought she might want to spend more time with him. 

“If you want,” Yamagishi replied, “but, please, think about what you really want. Writing aside.” He slipped past her in the narrow entryway, hand falling to rest on the doorknob. “Like I said, I don’t want to push you,” he added, and before she got the chance to reply, he turned the knob and pulled the door open. He did that on purpose, she realized, trying to keep her from saying anything without giving it some consideration. 

“Just think about it,” he said, too earnest and genuine.

Despite herself, something warm and light suffused through her. Nodding, a slight blush dusting across her cheeks, she stepped outside into the cool night air and pulled the door shut behind her. Backing a pace, she pressed her back to the door, sinking down to the ground. A myriad of emotions washed through her, still new and raw. Letting out a wavering breath, she curled her fingers into the fabric over her heart, trying to process. 

She would get past it eventually, haul herself to her feet and trudge home with a mess of tangled thoughts to work out, but for now, she sat, head pressed back into the door, and breathed. And she resolved, next time, to go just a little father, to be just a little braver.


End file.
